Ring on the Wrong Finger
by Girl On The Rise
Summary: Draco should have realized that befriending the Golden Trio would ultimately lead to the worst (and best) day of his strange life.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! Here's the new Dramione! Enjoy!**

**(P.S. This story is set five years after my other Dramione- "Lollipops". So there'll probably be a few references to the other story.)**

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy swept through the halls of Malfoy Manor, her elegant night gown trailing behind her. Her steps were quick, her gait- hurried, yet purposeful. She made her way up the marble staircase, through the empty corridors, past the deserted rooms.

She ignored the pale-faced portraits that stared after her, muttering obscenities about her disgraced family. Ever since Lucius was put into Azkaban , 3 years ago, the ancestral paintings had begun claiming she had no right to be there. She just chose to grit her teeth and put up with their nasty remarks and often violent outbursts. Draco however, was much less passive, and had been kind enough to silence them during his last visit, a week ago, AFTER ranting back at the paintings using some very colorful language, of course. But the silencing charms never seemed to work longer than a few days. She chose to once again ignore them today. She had more important matters at hand. She had to know. She just _had _to.

She quickened her pace through the Hall of Portraits, making her way towards the Family Tree Chamber.

She sighed in relief, slowing down as she reached her destination. She placed a hand on the ornately carved oak door, aware of her unusually erratic heartbeat.

"By the blood that flows through my veins," she muttered, "I command thee to let me pass."

The door silently swung open to reveal a large circular room inside.

The chamber was bare. It contained no furniture, no windows. It was dimly lit by a crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling.

The walls, on the other hand, were anything but empty. Intricately tattooed over almost three fourths of the pale yellow plaster was the Malfoy family tree. Narcissa had set up this room a year ago, after Draco moved into his own apartment. She had gotten the idea from 12 Grimmauld Place, her ancestral home.

She stepped inside, looking around anxiously, as her blue eyes searched the walls for the face she yearned to see.

It had to be there. Where was it? Where could it-

There.

Narcissa practically threw herself across the room, examining the face on the wall. The sharp grey eyes, the smirking mouth, the strong jaw.

Yes, it was him. He was alright.

Draco was alright.

She sighed, slumping against the wall, one hand clutching at her chest in relief.

She had been having dreams lately. Terrible dreams. Nightmares, more like it. Of Draco dying. Dreams of losing him, of him getting hurt. Every morning she would wake up, drenched in sweat, still seeing the spatters of blood and the broken body of her only son. Because, in every dream, she failed to save his life.

She gazed back up to the wall. Lucius's face was right there next to hers, but it had faded considerably. She knew what it meant. Lucius was dying. His eyes, so like Draco's were barely visible now. She didn't know how much longer he had.

She tried not think about it. She knew he was the reason Draco had had such a twisted childhood, but she couldn't bring herself to hate him. He was her _husband._ And despite everything he had put them through, she still loved him.

Narcissa picked herself off the floor, dusting down her silk night gown. She took a step forward, sending one last glance over her shoulder at her son's handsome face on the wall, then suddenly froze.

Had she seen right? In that parting glance, she had seen something in her peripheral vision. Something that didn't belong-A splash of red among the heads of platinum blonde.

She turned around slowly, her gaze focusing on the face next to Draco's . The one that hadn't been there yesterday.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy." she muttered darkly, turning and storming out of the room, "You have really done it this time."

* * *

Draco groaned as he tossed and turned in his bed. He didn't remember it being so..._hard_. He cracked an eye open gingerly, then promptly squeezed them shut again, hissing like some sort of vampire as the light from an open window blinded him. His head hurt, he felt like hurling, his tongue felt parched and there was the most vile taste in his mouth.

It was the _worst_ hangover he'd ever had.

Sitting up with difficulty, he opened his eyes, shielding them against the light with his hand. Gazing around the room he was in, he realized something with a twinge of foreboding.

He was definitely not in his _own_ bed.

There were photographs stuck on the ceiling . He squinted, attempting to identify the blurry faces. Was that... Potter? And Weaselbee? And...Hermione.

It was _Hermione's_ room. He gazed groggily to his side. There was someone next to him. Someone with red hair.

"Argh!" cried Draco, falling out of the bed. He crawled backwards, pressing himself against the wall. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, that twinge of foreboding escalating to full-blown panic.

That was Weasley! Weasley, in the bed with him!

What the bloody hell had _happened_ last night?

"I see you're awake." issued a voice. He looked up to see Hermione leaning against the doorway, smirking at him, a spark of amusement in her eyes.

"Why are Weasley and I in the same bed?" he asked, not bothering to mask his horror, his voice two octaves higher than usual.

"Good morning to you too." she said dryly, walking over to him and planting a light kiss on his forehead.

"Mione." he said, standing up shakily, "Your answer is the only thing that stands between me and that window."

She laughed.

"You guys were so tired last night, you just collapsed onto my bed. Don't worry." she assured him ,"Nothing happened."

His demeanor relaxed almost immediately. He let out the breath he'd been holding, placing a hand over his eyes, composing himself. He stood up, drawing himself up to his full height, now standing a head higher than Hermione. He grinned down at her.

"So what do you think about getting breakfast?" he slipped his arms around here waist, pulling her closer.

"Breakfast would be-" she stopped, as a very familiar eagle owl swooped through the window, landing gracefully on Draco's shoulder.

"Hey Storm." he murmured, stroking the bird's beak. It dropped the letter it was carrying into Draco's palms, before playfully nibbling his ear and flying back out the window. Draco frowned at the red letter in his hands.

Was it...? No, it couldn't be...

His suspicions were confirmed when the crimson envelope began to smoke. Both their eyes widened. He stepped away from Hermione and threw it into the air, right before it exploded.

"DRACO MALFOY!" it screeched. Hermione clapped her hands over her ears. Ron continued to snore. Draco just stared at the smoke in the air, shocked that his mother had actually sent him a howler- something that had never happened before.

"YOU WILL GET YOUR SORRY REAR TO THE MANOR THIS INSTANT, OR I WILL SEE TO IT THAT YOUR SEVERED HEAD IS MOUNTED ON MY WALL!"

He stood there in a stunned silence. The determination in his mom's fading voice was more than a little terrifying. He had no doubt that she would attempt to carry out the threat.

"I guess breakfast's off then?" asked Hermione tentatively. He nodded slowly, then picked up his jacket off the floor where it was lying, mentally preparing himself for the hell his mother was going to unleash.

* * *

They apparated to the Manor gardens. Hermione jogged alongside Draco, trying to keep up with his long quick strides. She had no time to admire the ivory fountains or the white peacock as they walked up the marble foyer steps and approached the huge mahogany doors.

Draco rapped smartly on the door, recoiling as it was thrown open almost immediately, as if someone had been waiting there all along.

Narcissa Malfoy stood at the entrance to his home, her eyes flashing fire. Hermione still found her regal manner and admirable beauty very intimidating. She hesitated, falling two steps behind Draco who walked up to her, unperturbed, and lightly kissed her on the cheek.

"Hello Mother."

Narcissa glared at him, "Don't waste your pleasantries on me, young man. You have some explaining to do."

She turned to Hermione, a rare smile gracing her lips, "It's good to see you dear. Do come in."

Hermione smiled at the beautiful woman, and was once again reminded that she was lucky that Malfoy's mother wasn't anti-Muggle born .

Narcissa lead them through the marble tiled foyer, into an exquisite living room. She walked over to a plush armchair, covered in decorated gold cloth, with ornate carved armrests. The lady motioned to the black sofas opposite her, which surrounded a jade and glass coffee table. The table was laid out with a china tea set and a plate of biscuits. A fireplace crackled merrily across the room.

"So what did I do?" asked Draco, taking a seat near Hermione, helping himself to a biscuit.

His mother clasped her pale hands together, and shook her head, "I'm going to get straight to the point. After all this time Draco. Five years you have been dating this girl, and you couldn't be bothered to tell her the truth."

He raised an eyebrow at her, obviously taken by surprise, "What?"

"Don't play dumb!" snapped Narcissa, surprising the both of them, "How could you toy with Hermione's feelings like this? You've left the poor thing in the dark!"

"Draco, what is your mother talking about?" asked Hermione, the confusion in her voice evident as she looked from one Malfoy to the other.

He shrugged, turning to her, "Believe me, Mione, if I knew, I would tell you."

"Be honest with her Draco," said Narcissa, looking kindly at the younger witch," Spare her a broken heart and come out of the closet."

"Closet? What closet?" he spluttered, starting to get annoyed. His Mom had REALLY lost it... Maybe it was the result of spending all these days alone in their large Manor with no one but her overactive imagination for company. Maybe he should move in with her for a while, "Mother, what on earth are you saying?"

Hermione, on the other hand, had understood the reference. She eyed him incredulously.

"Draco..." she asked tentatively ,"Are you...uh..."

"Am I what?" he snapped irritably, realizing he was the only one who still hadn't caught on. He hated being the last one to know, "Honestly, why do you have to be so enigmatic?"

"Are you...gay?"

He choked, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish. He took a moment to survey the two women of his life carefully, before realizing that they were completely serious.

"What is _wrong_ with you two?!" he roared, standing up, fists clenched. Narcissa showed no outward reaction, probably used to outbursts like this from her son. Hermione, on the other hand, flinched as Draco continued loudly "I am perfectly straight! I have no interest in men! What in blazes brought this on anyway?"

"Your engagement to Ronald Weasley last night." replied Narcissa pointedly, coolly sipping her tea.

"WHAT?!"

* * *

**Review!**

**(This is not a one-shot. There will be another chapter, and yes, it is a Dramione fic. )**


	2. Chapter 2

**New chappie :D. It turns out our hotel in Scotland has free wifi! So I finished it up. I'll update soon.**

* * *

Ronald Weasley woke up with a ring on his finger. It was the first thing he noticed when he cracked open his eyes that morning. It was a pretty ring - a platinum one, a cluster of tiny emeralds surrounding the central drop-shaped diamond. But the ring looked _very _out of place on his large, calloused hand.

"What the-" he mumbled groggily as he raised his hand to his face, trying to examine the ring. His vision was blurred and it felt like there was a marching band playing inside his skull. He kept his hand up for about twenty seconds as he peered at the light metal band, before his eyes widened as he realized what it was. He bolted upright with a yelp.

A quick glance around told him he was alone in Hermione's room. So there was no one there to explain what he was doing in Hermione's bed with a giant rock on his little finger. Feeling slightly panicky, Ron looked back down at the ring and tried to slide it off. His efforts were in vain and the ring was undoubtedly stuck. It couldn't just be that it was too small for his finger, Ron figured.

"What. Kind. Of. Stupid. Git. Would charm. A ring. To stick. On. A finger," the readhead grunted with every tug on the delicate-looking silver band. With a groan, he gave up, and flopped back on the bed. His vision had cleared and he stared up at the pictured of Him, Harry and Hermione stuck on the latter's ceiling.

He scowled as he noticed the fourth face on the ceiling. Of_ course _she put Malfoy up there. There was a picture of the two of them, right next to the snap of their trio. They were in formal clothes- she was in a beautiful red gown, while Malfoy was in a tux. The ferret had his arm around her shoulders, and was smirking infuriatingly at the camera. Hermione looked radiant, and was laughing about something Malfoy had said. The photo was taken on the day of their seventh year farewell- the same day Hermione had told Ron and Harry about her relationship with Malfoy.

He snarled at the moving picture, before pulling himself off the bed.

"Er-my-nee..." he called, stumbling through the apartment. "Where are you?"

He entered the living room and looked around. The house seemed to be pretty empty, except for...

Ron squinted as his blurry vision began to clear. Was that really...?

"Harry? Bloody hell mate, what are you doing on the dining table?"

His best friend looked up at him. He was curled up comfortably on the oak table top.

"Mornin' Ron," he groaned, sitting up and swinging his legs off the table. His dark messy hair was sticking up all over the place and was worse than usual, if that was even possible. He looked like he had received a mild shock and then been mauled by a bear. The chosen one patted around looking for his glasses, finally finding them in his front pocket. He slid them on and looked up at Ron.

"What the-"

Ron stared as Harry broke off, dissolving into muffled sniggers.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Um... " Harry looked up at Ron, laughter in his green eyes, "You should take a look in the mirror, Ron. Or should I say, Harry?"

The redhead gave his best friend a dubious look before marching across the living room to an ornate bronze-framed mirror that hung near the window. One look in it cleared up his doubts about his best friend's sanity.

A rather exaggerated version of Harry's lightning scar and round frame glasses were graffitied on his face in what appeared to be black sharpie.

Harry laughed even harder as Ron gaped at his reflection, his mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish.

"What in Godric's name happened last night?" he cried, as he rubbed his hand frantically over the 'scar', attempting to make it go away. To be honest, the whole of last night was a blank...

"You're only making it worse mate." said Harry, grinning at Ron - who had managed to smudge the black ink all over his face, "We have wands for a reason. Here, let me."

Ron stood to face Harry, as the bespectacled man pulled out his wand and pointed it at the red head's face.

"_Scourgify_."

"Argh!" Ron yelled, as his eyes filled with soap. Harry stared at him, quite alarmed, as Ron yanked off his shirt over his head and tried to wipe the soap away. He flicked his wand again, causing the soap to disappear. Ron glared at him with bloodshot eyes, the black ink stains on his face only looking worse.

"That's funny," mumbled Harry, "I thought that would've done the trick. Hey Ron, you have any idea of what to do?"

"No." he snapped icily, "No, I don't."

Harry shrugged, not looking remorseful enough for Ron's liking, and looked around, "We're at Hermione's place."

"Way to state the obvious, mate."

"No, I mean, let's just ask her. She'll get it off in a sec," Harry stretched, and yawned, "Where is Hermione, anyway?"

"Dunno. Went out, probably," Ron shrugged, still trying to rub off the sharpie glasses, trying not to flinch at his reflection. Red hair, black face and red bloodshot eyes. He could easily pass off as the family ghoul.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Meanwhile, Harry had made himself at home in the kitchen. A pot of coffee was boiling on the stove while he rooted around in the fridge. Ron came in and plonked himself down at the kitchen table, groaning as the pounding in his head got worse with his less than gentle movements.

"Here," Harry put a cup of coffee in front of him,.

Ron reached for the cup, but never made it as Harry had snatched Ron's hand up to his face, nearly dragging his best friend off the chair in the process.

"Harry, what-" Ron started but his best friend shushed him as he examined the platinum ring on the redhead's little finger. The dark-haired man's eyes widened as he stared at the teardrop diamond.

"Ron, how-"

Ron shrugged irritably, tugging his hand back out of Harry's grip," Don't ask me, mate. I've been trying to figure that out this whole morning. What's worse is that the stupid thing won't come off."

Harry fell into the chair beside him, put a hand over his eyes and groaned, "I don't know what happened last night. Can't remember squat but I know that THIS was not supposed to happen."

The redhead stiffened, coffee cup halfway to his lips, "What was not supposed to happen?"

Harry shot Ron the 'Are you really that thick?" look.

"Ron." he said, patronizingly slowly, "There is a ring on your finger. It's obviously an ENGAGEMENT ring. It is a ring that a bloke gives a girl when-"

"I know what an engagement ring is!" Ron snapped. Harry looked considerably relieved.

"Someone we know wants to propose to someone else."

Ron looked at the ring in horror. Harry was surprised, he didn't think his best friend would catch on that fast.

"Am I wearing Ginny's ring?!"

Harry promptly smacked Ron over the head.

"No, you git. She's already wearing our engagement ring."

"Right," mumbled Ron. "So whose is it?"

The dark-haired man sighed.

"Look at the emeralds Ron. Green. Does anyone in particular come to mind when you think of the color green?"

"Well, yeah mate," he said, sipping his coffee, "You do. It matches your eyes. Are you sure this isn't Ginny's?"

He received another smack over the head. Harry decided to give it one last go.

"Someone, among the four of us-" He immediately cringed at his choice of words. Draco tagged along with their group so often, the trio had become a quartet. But it was either put up with him, or suffer Hermione's wrath. He took a breath, and continued, "One of the four of us, that is Malfoy, Hermione, you and me, wants to propose to someone else from this same group. Get my drift?"

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Ron, realisation dawning on his features, "Hermione wants to marry me!"

Harry gave up.

* * *

**Review!**


End file.
